


The One Where Derek Doesn't Care That Stiles Is Perfect

by DannisonDrables



Series: The one where Derek doesn't care that Stiles isn't Perfect. [1]
Category: Sterek - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Highschool, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, F/M, M/M, Sixteen Year Old Derek, Young Derek, jock!Stiles, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannisonDrables/pseuds/DannisonDrables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was a prompt I took from ( http://eeames.tumblr.com ) and honestly I'm so glad I found it. I know I'm going to love writing it. (And no it won't interfere with my other works. It was inspired by an amazing GIF that eeames made that I fell in love with so see that here -> ( http://eeames.tumblr.com/post/42319758922/teen-wolf-high-school-au-jerk-stiles-and ) So the credit for the idea of this story goes to eeames and I'm so happy they let me write this. Check out their tumblr. It's great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So You're a Genius?

“A.P Biology won’t be that hard for you, Mr. Hale. You are a bright young man with a dazzling future ahead of you as a doctor, scientist, anything you want could be yours. Very few in our fine school has scores such as yours, in fact only two, and think of the pride you would feel, being one of them. All the doors are open to a young man like you; you just have to walk through them.”  
                Derek tried to remember the Morrel woman’s words as he walked down the hall surrounded by Juniors, it was initially the plan that he would just take a few advanced classes as a freshman, but when they found out the material was easy to him, in fact too easy, they put him in advanced placement, which technically was the reason he was here. That, and because he wanted to make his mom proud of him; she was always so sad since the fire, since they had lost everyone.  
                His first class was A.P Chemistry, taught by Mr. Harris who, to be honest, had intimidated him since the first time he saw the man walking out to the parking lot. If he was a normal kid he would have assumed the guy was a vampire with how pale he was but he didn’t believe in silly things like that, he was too grown for his own good as his mother would say.  
                The classroom wasn’t as big or as intimidating as he thought. He got weird looks; mostly from people he assumed wondering why a grade nine runt like him had walked in on a class of people who all thought they were better than him. His self-confidence was taking real hits. There was only one seat open by the windows close to the back so he used the table top as leverage and pushed himself up to reach the slightly too tall stool.  He had to admit it was a good day, it made him smile to be sitting in school with the sun slanting through the windows warm and beautiful. He grinned and ducked, embarrassed by his two slightly buck teeth that showed too easy. Lifting his head slowly, he saw him and tried to keep breathing.  
                Everyone kind of knew who Stiles Stilinski was, he was like high school royalty in the juvenile sense, he had the monster of a jeep that blared the best music in the parking lot before and after school, all his buddies crowding around and the girls cheering while he stood on top and held the legendary lacrosse stick above his head like Hercules held up the Centaur, grinning and strong and beautiful. He was captain of the Lacrosse team, the boy Lydia Martin –Self-proclaimed goddess of everything and everyone- pinned after, and he barely acknowledged her. He was best friends with Jackson Whittemoore who was captain of the swim team and another well-known socialite. Everyone loved him, even Danny Mahealani, one of Derek’s few friends who knew about him. He admired Danny and had a bit of a stupid crush on him, but that was normal. Danny was his mentor, captain of the baseball team and out and proud and stupid smart.  
                Derek tried not to notice how much he was blushing and tried extra hard not to seem like he was watching the strong almost man who strode into the room and seemed to captivate everyone in it with his presence. He was tall and muscled and lean, his eyes glowed honey in the sunlight and his milky white skin was flawless, and the rare time he smiled at you it was like you were his best friend and the only one that mattered. Derek knew how much of a jerk Stiles was rumored to be, he only got along with the cheerleaders and teammates. He would never notice Derek, not in the way Derek very secretly wanted him to. Derek had just turned sixteen, Stiles was seventeen going on eighteen, and two years didn’t seem like much but they were when you had obvious differences.  
                Stiles didn’t look at him until he was sitting down beside him, one brow arching up as if that asked all the obvious questions, which it did. ‘Who the hell are you?’ ‘Why are you sitting next to me?’ ‘Who is this peasant?’ Derek had heard Stiles call Erica Reyes that once when she had volunteered to be his lab partner. It was seriously messed up and Derek had wanted to think less of the jock for that, but you couldn’t think less of Stiles, it wasn’t possible, not when behind his rock hard figure there was the guy who laughed like he loved life, smiled like every day was his favorite and looked like he could be your dream come true, and that was just it; you just wanted to believe he was the guy you dreamed him up to be.  
                “We have a new student, Mr. Derek Hale, who comes to us from grade nine, and was put into advanced placement and honors classes. Mr. Stilinski, as aware as I am of how capable you are of working on your own, Mr. Hale will be your lab partner for the year, try to take advantage of having a mind just as brilliant, if not more, as yours. Now let’s begin.”  
                Derek heard the older kids laughing, snickering behind their hands, and could feel the anger from Stiles beside him, and his humiliation, but he just kept his face on the large book in front of him, lazily tracing the shapes of the periodic elements he knew by heart. Stiles didn’t talk to him until after class ended and it was only because Mr. Harris had dropped the bomb of a group paper.  
                “You any good at Chemistry, Hale?” He asked, not kindly.  
                “I’m not too bad. I like how everything in the world makes sense, you know? With the periodic table.”  
                Stiles stared at him like he was an idiot. “Right.” He finally said, clearly exasperated. “So I have Lacrosse—“  
                “I can totally type the paper. I don’t have anything—I mean I don’t have anything like Lacrosse after school or anything.” Derek smiled easily and waved it off like it was nothing even when his too adult sensibilities told him how messed up it was. Besides they would have to work together, and that could almost be hanging out.  
                “I’m sure you don’t.” The words amounted up to duh in Derek’s head. “I’m sorry. What was your name again?”  
                “Derek. My name is Derek.” He offered and picked up his book, turning away with his backpack already on, walking away.  
  
-  
  
                Stiles had been more than a little captivated by the kid sitting beside him. He smelled like a mothers cooking, some kind of cologne and woman’s perfume mixed. He also smelled happy, even when Stiles was a dick to him. He was used to people respecting him and moving out of his way from fear, because he was scary in the sense that people didn’t know how to respond around him, but Derek was all easy smiles and small grins that seemed to be from nothing at all. He was around fifteen and Stiles had just turned seventeen so that was some kind of consolidation that acknowledging that the kid wasn’t hideous, especially with the mild confidence that the kid had handled the jock, waving off his aggression like it was playful. Stiles had wanted to laugh when Derek took his cuts easy, totally okay with Stiles forgetting his name within an hour, telling him he was doing the project relatively alone. Derek was never shaken, but Stiles had been, he wanted to be on the field, tackling players and shooting goals where he felt like he was good, where he felt safe. People weren’t his thing, they hadn’t been since his mom died and the Sheriff threw himself into work and was rarely home. Now he did everything to get his dad to see how great he was. He was taking college courses while doing high school, Lacrosse and maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Stiles was the All American boy, better than Ken could ever hope to be, and Derek Hale seemed to think he was just another guy to be taken lightly, like he expected the jocks world to be as simple and as easy as everyone else’s. Stiles wanted to be pissed; Derek Hale had no idea how fucked up his life was, how it wasn’t even relative to anyone else’s issues. He wanted him to know, to show him how wrong he was.  
                He was getting ready to chase the kid down in the hall way and drag him off, but he realized at the threshold of the room that it meant Derek just thought of him as a guy, not some genius sports jock. Derek Hale didn’t expect Stiles to be perfect. Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t make the pressure better, didn’t make the world all easy anymore, and didn’t make him happier. It just didn’t add to the fear of disappointing someone else to his list.  
  
-  
                Derek had math next and it went by fast, as math always did for him. He didn’t dread the numbers like everyone else. School to him was simple; you did the work and got out. And he liked math, but he didn’t say that to anyone, he got thrown in the trash once by some older freshman when he let it slip last year. It’s just that to him the numbers made sense, they were definite and not changeable. Something and something always made something else and it couldn’t be anything but that. There was no possibility of chance that scared him, that made him feel lost in the danger of everything. Emotion and people were variables and yes, you could solve the variables, but they only led to more. He loved his mom and big sister and his few friends, he knew all their variables and what they equaled to, but other people, they were what scared him.  
                Lunch was easy, because it wasn’t strict to grades like classes were, and he quickly found Danny sitting with Laura, his –As she had deigned herself- fag hag. He pulled his brown bag lunch from his backpack and traded his chips for Laura’s cookie before smiling at Danny.  
                “How’s it going, junior?” Danny joked, mock shoving Derek who laughed a lit too much and grinned with his buck teeth a little too huge.  
                “Pre-Cal is great, I like it.” Laura grimaced at him and Danny laughed. “A.P Chemistry is great I guess.”  
                “You guess?” Laura piped up, skewering him. Since the fire Laura was too protective, to the point that she kicked Greenberg’s ass for ripping his towel off in the hallway after some other kids stole his clothes. He had a broken nose when she was finished.  
                “Stiles Stilinski is my Chemistry partner for the year.” He said easily. “He’s not mean. Just intimidating.” and like it was a movie Stiles was walking by looking perfect and giving Derek a shit look. He sighed. “So maybe he wasn’t great.” He poked at the sandwich in front of him before he set his elbows on the table, putting his face in his hands and shrugged. “It’s just because I’m new. It’ll be great.”  
                “Derek that’s bullshit.” Laura snapped just before Danny said, “Laura give us a second?”  
                “How about fuck no, Mahealani?”  
                “How about its mentor stuff that I just remembered?” He lied smoothly and Laura gave him a scathing look before grumbling about not enough carbs on her cheat day. Danny rolled his eyes.  
                “So you have it bad, huh?” He asked once Laura was gone. Derek dropped his head on the table with a _thump._  
                “I’m painfully obvious. It’s pathetic. He probably is routing up players to murder me after school.” He tried to joke but Danny didn’t laugh.  
                “That’s not even funny. Even if Laura wasn’t your scary bitch sister with eyes that kill. I’d have to hack into each ones Facebook and do some serious damage if they even touched you… But that’s a criminal offense and you won’t repeat that.” He looked a little sheepish and smiled slightly.  
                “Your secret is safe with me.” Derek vowed.  
                “I know. I just don’t want to see you hung up on a guy like Stilinski. I know him better than you think. He has issues, okay?” And Derek saw how Danny’s eyes looked sad rather than judgmental and hated how he liked him even more because he had a soft caring voice and was nice to people. Dammit.  
                “Yeah.” He said forlorn and hunched his shoulders up.  
                “Look I didn’t just send your sister away so I could get you to open up about having the hots for Stilinski because that was so obvious. I wanted you to meet someone.” Just as Danny said it a cute if not awkward freshman walked over and sat down, shifting in his seat awkwardly before looking at Danny with cute if not expecting brown eyes. He had tan skin and wavy black hair that was a bit old fashioned. He was cute in the way that wasn’t typical, and if you were judgmental you’d call him ugly. He had a strange jaw structure and a pointed chin and the bridge of his nose was larger than norm but his cute shy smile and dimples made it all fit. Derek knew he was second string on the Lacrosse team, he had asthma pretty bad but he stayed just because some of his friends were there.  
                “Derek this is Scott, he’s another kid that I mentor and I wanted you to meet him, he’s on the Lacrosse team aren’t you, Scott? And Scott, Derek just skipped his tenth year all together and is taking all A.P classes this year. Isn’t that amazing?”  
                “It’s not that impressive, Danny.” Derek protested.  
                “No it’s cool. I’m barely passing algebra.” Scott joked and smiled at Derek who smiled back.  
                “Why?” Derek asked, openly curious. Who could fail math.  
                “Numbers are hard.” Scott said and looked dejected; it was like someone kicked a puppy.  
                “I could help you. After school if you want.” Derek offered, smiling huge at Scott and not caring about his buck teeth or how crazy he might look.  
                “Yeah. We could go to the Star Bucks in town.” Scott said, cheerful.  
                “And I’ll take Laura home so you can take the Camaro. Just this once, Hale.” Danny said, getting up and grabbing Laura’s arm on her way back to the table, the two of them walking out of the cafeteria.  
                “So Lacrosse.” Derek asked because Scott looked a little lost, fork hovering over his tray aimlessly.  
                 
  
  
                “If you scratch a single part of my baby I’ll murder you, Kiddo. I mean it. But have fun on your date!” She pinched his cheek and he blushed.  
                He hissed, “It’s not a date, Laura.” Just as Scott showed up, bouncing happily, book bag hanging off one shoulder and skateboard in his other arm. His face was so full of joy until Derek opened his mouth.  
                “It’s not?” They both asked in unison and Derek let his mouth hang open, keys digging into his palm from his grip.  
                He looked at Scott and Laura before choosing Scott to stare at because Laura was leering like a masochist. “I didn’t want to seem presumptuous?” He tried: one because he didn’t know if the Scott kid was gay despite how cute he was and two, they had just met earlier that day. “I mean you are fun to talk to! I just didn’t want to call it a date and have you thinking I’m rude for assuming, you know. But I would be totally fine with this being a date if you wanted.” He grinned easy and walked around, opening Scott’s door for him while managing to shoot his sister a scathing look identical to her own. She just grinned an identical smile and ran off to Danny who watched from beside his car.  
                “But maybe we will just have coffee and talk while we drink coffee and get food because studying isn’t how I imagined my first date. Is that okay?” He said, sliding into the driver’s seat, happy that he was as tall as Laura so he didn’t get dwarfed by the wheel.  
                “Totally, if it lets me put off studying.”  
                “I’ll make sure I set a date sometime this week to make sure you get some of it done.” Derek warned, smirking at Scott’s disappointed look. “It’ll be fun though. I’ve tutored before.”  
                “So you’re like a genius or something?”  
                Derek laughed. “For my age. I just understand things easy. I don’t know how it works to be honest. Things are just easy.” He shrugged it off and started the car, pulling out before he heard the loud shout and slammed on the breaks, looking around in a panic. It would be just his luck that he’d hit someone the first time he got to drive Laura’s car.  
                Derek jumped out of the car in time to see Stiles giving him a peevish look. “Drive much?” The jock snapped.  
                “I didn’t see you back there, you were in my blind spot.” Derek defended.  
                “Or maybe you are blind in general.”  
                Derek leveled a look at him. “What did you want, Stiles?” He cut to the point. Stiles seemed to smile for a second at that.  
                “Just call me to let me know about the project and what we are doing it on.” He thrust a piece of paper into Derek’s hand and turned on his heels, striding towards his big blue jeep where Lydia Martin waited. Derek tried not to feel punched in the gut.  
                


	2. This Isn't Another Teen Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Stiles character building. I wanted there to be a darkness to him. I wanted him to have problems that a lot of people don't realize guys like this have. And I maybe wanted Derek to be comforting while being BAMF. As far as Scott... Kicked Puppy.. All I'm saying. And yes... I AM SORRY T.T

One Week Later.  
  
  
                Stiles sat in the private booth he and Jackson always got, sipping from the flash Jackson always took with him to the jungle; always full of straight liquor. He took a long swig and turned his eyes back on the dance floor, the alcohol blurring his vision, slowing the grinding bodies down, making the light blow and scatter in front of his vision. Jackson’s teeth were digging into his collar bone, bruising his milky white skin, but his eyes were searching the floor, searching for Derek.   
                He and Scott were dancing in the throng of bodies pressed close together. Scott looked happy, his hands claiming Derek’s hips as Derek waved his hands above them, swaying them to ‘ _Hang with me’_ as they swayed. Stiles could see by the look on his face he was happy, his eyes full of uncontrolled joy, the way he could never have. Everything he got was kept secret, his happiness, his desires, everything he felt was buried under Lacrosse, School and keeping away from Lydia Martin, and that stupid kid was clawing the earth, pulling all of it up, making Stiles itch with raw irritation.  
                He had been there at the Café the week before, walked in to get his caffeine fix when he saw Derek and Scott hunched closer across the tables; Derek mannerly sipping the hot coffee in front of him while Scott devoured the whip cream off of something sugary and way to sweet that he dipped bits of muffin in. Stiles hated how he stopped and sat to watch them for thirty minutes, pretending to text when he felt like a voyeur.  Derek was smiling his bright open smile that showed his buck teeth and canines, it made him dimple and the way his eyes sparkled… it just made Stiles angry. And he didn’t know why… that’s what scared him most. Scott was snickering at a joke Derek made, talking animatedly with his hands which only made Scott laugh more, the hat binding his curls back on backwards let a curl loose and Derek reached over, tucking it back in expertly. Scott had blushed, Derek seemed to grin wider, and Stiles left to punch at the side of his jeep until his knuckled bled.  
                Derek seemed to care less and less about just who he was as that week went on. The next day he simply gave Stiles a raised brow, when the jock had asked about the paper before taking down his notes. Stiles had caught him peeking at his phone under the table near the end of the hour, eyes shining the way they did when he was happy, when he was excited about something. At lunch he had sat with Danny and Laura and Scott who had jumped in out of nowhere and claimed the spot beside Derek who lit up when the other boy arrived. It was all so infuriating to watch.   
                He went home to an empty house that night, a note from his dad saying he’d be late. The house was clean, spotless even, the way Stiles tended to it, just like his mother. He never let the cleaning go lacks, dust never settled. The fridge was stocked full and organized by product and date. Each cereal box on top was arranged by height, the labels all facing out. He had walked to the cabinet and pulled out the four different pill bottles; Sertraline and Adderall for his O.C.D and A.D.D. Zoloft and Paxil both to help with his depression and Anxiety as well as O.C.D. He downed the pills, more than enough Adderall before he scavenged for a beer from the back of the fridge, the chilled bottle unopened unlike the rest.   
                He finished the bottle by the time he reached his door and threw the bottle with enough force against the wall to shatter it, the sound familiar. The floor was littered with colored glass, all of them from various alcohol bottles: Gray Goose, Jack, Juan, Jim Bean, Jose, all his dads’ best friends. He had crunched over the sea of shards like he did every day, knowing his dad never came into the room, knowing he never noticed, knowing he didn’t care. The sheriff stopped caring when Stiles had stopped being a wide eyed kid interested in his dads work. Now he was just Stiles, the jock, the genius, the crazy depressed obsessive compulsive panic riddled Adderall junky. He liked it that way, the way he was perfect on the outside but inside everything was a collage of pain and dizziness. It had been that way since the drinking started, when he became Captain of the Lacrosse team and scored half the winning goals and his dad wasn’t in the stands screaming for him. The only one who cheered for him was Lydia Martin, who would have thrown her panties out onto the field if she thought it would help get with him.   
                The next day was worse than the one before. Derek hadn’t looked at him much through Chemistry, only speaking to him to let him know he was almost done with the paper and that he would explain it to him over the weekend. His eyes were either on the board or on his phone. Stiles had gritted his teeth and had kept his mouth shut, wishing he wasn’t hung over, sick to his stomach and light headed. He skipped lunch because his head was pounding and spent the time hanging out of the jeep window, throwing up as his stomach felt like it was being squeezed from the outside in.  
                He skipped the rest of the day, dry heaving as his stomach protested. He had been backing out minutes after the final bell rang, having moved to a different spot to avoid questions up the throw up and the obvious smell of alcohol. He was pulling out when he saw Scott plant a small, shy kiss on Derek’s lips. Derek hadn’t fought it or rejected the other boy, he just leaned in and kissed him back, hand on his side before he opened the passenger door to let the boy in, grinning like a fool when he shut it. A part of him saw how sweet the whole gesture was, and he knew that that may have been a first kiss shared; the rest of him was just angry… no. The rest of him was just angrier. And he didn’t know why.   
                It was easier to go home that night after the gym, spending hours on the treadmill until his legs burned and then a few more hours on the punch bag until he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. It helped when he could burn himself from the inside until the emotional pain died in the shadow of the physical. He slept, the beer he was nursing in his hand falling and spilling onto the bed. Anyone seeing him there wouldn’t recognize who he was, and he was happy. When he was alone he got to kill the person he hated most. The All American boy died when Stiles chugged beers and shots until he couldn’t see straight from the alcohol reacting with the pills. He wasn’t expected to be out on the field, winning games, making people proud. He got to be a loser, someone who got to be invisible and hidden and safe.            
                The room was the perfect way to describe him; books, cd cases, records and DVD are organized by alphabet, size or date, walls bare and computer desk looking right out of an IKEA catalogue. He had five inhalers on him, two in each hoody pocket always, one in his backpack, now they were lined up by color beside the organized pens and pencils. He wasn’t asthmatic but they helped with his panic attacks, they reinforced the idea that he was breathing again. Everything had its place, everything neat and arranged, but below your feet was covered with glass, broke and scattered and chipped. Air freshener covered the smell of alcohol and weed. It was medicinal and necessary, or his doctor said so. Stiles had been on pills and drugs so long laced with the effects of drinking he had long since forgotten what being alive felt like.   
  
                The rest of the week was fine, nothing happened, he cut down on the drinking when he passed out in the drive way and woke up the next morning on Friday. He had decided to skip school and sleep it off; skipping his medication as well because Jackson would be inviting him to the club on Saturday and having it in his system would fuck him up worse. Everything was fine until he saw them on the dance floor; Derek and Scott grinding and dancing and kissing deep and hot and it set fire inside of him. The way Jackson mouthed at his body had turned him on and his mind supplied the image of Derek being there kissing him while the jock held him close. It sent a shock through him how much he wanted it, how much it hurt to see them down there on the floor together, Scott’s hands running over Derek’s sides possessively.   
                Stiles lurched out of his seat and charged through the people, ignoring the half-drunk complaints, the startled cries and the angry protests. He found them swaying as the song changed. Another Robyn song because someone was obsessed; ‘Dancing on my own’ began playing but they never lost a beat until Stiles was shoving Scott down and sneering at him, tipping the flask up and taking a large gulp, eyes hard and angry with his vision swimming. He heard Derek shouting at him but it was distant.   
                Scott was panting on the floor heavily, hand scrambling in his pocket for the inhaler until he found it and took a long pull, holding it before he started breathing again, fast but without the strained wheeze.   
                “Leave him ALONE!” Derek clipped Stiles’ jaw hard, snapping the jocks head to the side and causing a bruise to blossom. “Get out of here, Scott!” Derek snapped and Scott shuffled back before getting up and bolting away.  
-  
                Derek gritted his teeth as he saw Scott look frightened by his anger but he didn’t change his expression. Stiles was drunk and had the makings to hurt him and Derek didn’t want that. He didn’t want to have to hurt Stiles for being an idiot even though he needed some sense knocked into him. He grabbed him by the arm of his letterman’s jacket and started pulling, a little too easily. Stiles was drunk off his ass, even more so than Derek predicted. They got outside to the front of the club and he shoved Stiles hard, glaring down at him where he hit the hard asphalt.   
                “Get up.” Derek ordered, pushing the sleeves of his black dress shirt up. Stiles struggled to his feet and Derek shoved him down before he could get back up again. “I said get up, Stilinski. You’re so much better than this huh? You want to push kids around. GET UP, STILES!” The last part was a scream but he didn’t care. Heat and adrenalin flooded him like electricity.  He wanted to hurt him for hurting Scott who was always sweet and nice and kind of stupidly goofy, but looking at the dejected form trying to rise up from the parking lot he felt it all wash out of him just as fast as it came, leaving him panting and light headed.  
                “Where’s your little date?” He slurred, wiping the back of his hand on his mouth where it was bleeding. He had hit the road face down the last time.   
                “Some pathetic excuse for a human sent him home so I could kick said pathetic humans ass.” Derek threatened, glaring at the jock for a moment before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Get up I’m taking you home. Give me your keys.” He ordered Stiles, texting Laura to have Danny pick her up so she could get the car.   
                Stiles was easy to push around when he was wasted, but it wasn’t a clean job. He threw up twice, once on Derek’s shoe the other on his shirt front. He pulled it off before getting into the driver’s seat of the jeep leaving him in his white wife beater that showed the lanky arms with corded muscle and his firm chest.   
                “Don’t’ take me home, Derek.” Stiles mumbled sometime later, Derek already on the road, windows rolled down letting in the cold night air to wake up his drunken chore.   
                “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Derek snapped, slamming on the breaks so Stiles’ head flew into the dashboard… hard.  
                “What the fuck was that for?!” He roared, grabbing his head.  
                “You know EXACTLY what that was for.” Derek seethed, turning in the seat and pointing an accusing finger. “You’ve made my junior year shit since it started, Stilinski. I took your crap in class because I didn’t want to hurt your fragile self-esteem by handing you your jock ass in front of all your stupid friends but you won’t bully me. You’re a prick and a jerk and a loser and no one can see it. You aren’t perfect; you are actually pretty fucked up. Why? What happened in your life that was so terrible that you had hurt people and waste yourself away? Your car fucking smells like cheap beer and the locker room before laundry day, you look like you’ve been spending food money on cocaine and people are starting to talk. So what the fuck is it? Is it drugs? Are you using?   
                “Steroids, trying to improve your game, is that it? Are you and Jackson having some kind of lovers quarrel because I’d have to kick your ass if you make me tell him that he’s too good for you? What is Stiles? WHAT?!” He slammed his fist against the wheel and Stiles jumped, closing the space between them by sealing their lips together. Stiles’ hands were strong and held Derek’s face firm, thumbs stroking his graceful cheek bones slowly, eyes closed as he worked the younger boys lips apart with his own and traced the lower with the tip of his tongue. Derek felt himself melt into it for a second. Just a second, and then he shoved.  
                “No! You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to touch me that way after treating me the way you have, now where do you live so I can take you home?”  
                “I love you.” Stiles tried, working to get over the stick shift between them, and Derek warned him away with a glare.  
                “You haven’t been loved enough to know what love is. Not any time soon.”  Derek stated and tried to calm the beating of his heart and the hunger he felt to crawl into Stiles’ lap and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe anymore.


	3. And In That Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of a fallen Prince, the rebellion, and the savior in search of redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say that I have a personal body gaurd of fans that will defend me if any of you try to end me, OKay? Okay? And the guy who is in control of my armies is bad ass so don't even try to over throw me. =.= I mean it. FEED BACK FEED BACK FEED BACK I HUNGER FOR FEED BACK!

Derek tapped the tip of his pencil repeatedly against the table top, eyes glued to the door but seeing nothing but Stiles, Stiles and his defeated face last weekend. Derek hadn’t realized until it was too late that the Sheriff was pulling in behind him, and he couldn’t just peel out, the muscular older boy was already leaning out of the car on his shoulder, and Derek was already struggling just trying to support most of the jocks weight. The sheriff didn’t give him a chance to speak; his face went ghost white and he nearly tackled down Derek in order to take Stiles from him.  
                Derek had followed, not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to leave. Then he saw Stiles’ room and wished he had. The smell of liquor permeated the small area and the sheriff just looked ready to crumple in on himself. He had known, Derek knew, that his son was falling apart. Everyone could see it really, if they looked just a little deeper, they could see the cracks, like a diamond in the rough, you see the beauty, but you don’t see what its stuck in, the way he was only happy when he was tackling down bodies, when he was shooting goals, when he was partying in clubs and drinking in the school parking lot in the middle of the night. Derek knew enough to put up with him and his fragile broken anger, and he saw enough to take care of him when he needed it even when it had cost him Scott. He had tried to stop him in the hallway before lunch to talk but he just turned and ran the other way.  Stiles hadn’t been to school all week and rumors were going around that Finstock let slip he was in rehab. Derek’s stomach had turned when Danny told him.  
                He had told Danny everything and Laura an edited version because Laura would probably go find him and beat him with another recovering patient. Danny just stared with huge eyes as Derek told him the story about how he had took Stiles down in the parking lot and how he had drug him to the car and then the kiss. Hearing it, it sounded like a teenage romance novel with an age difference and mental disorders. The sheriff had lost his mind when he had seen the glass all over the floor. Derek didn’t get everything; just Stiles had been messing with his medication and drinking at the same time. By the time he left Stiles was curled up in his dad’s lap who was rocking his son back and forth; both of them openly sobbing and struggling to hold onto the other. It wasn’t his place to stay; it brought back too many memories.  
  
                                It was during lunch that Stiles showed up, and the whole room stopped to witness the change.  
                It was like he died, but in the place of the all start champion was something sadder, something worse, and it raised a wave of guilt inside Derek because this… he had never wanted _this._ Stiles was barely recognizable with the short buzzed hair, the chalky white skin with deep bruises under his frantic and scared eyes that you could see clearly behind thick framed glasses. His mouth was pressed in a hard line and every so often his hand would jerk or he would roll his neck with an involuntary tick. He was swallowed whole by the large red hoody that hid him and that’s when everyone knew; the old Stiles was never coming back, it was obvious he couldn’t, the old Stiles demanded the stage, and this paper thin ghost would burn up in any spotlight.  
                He didn’t know who started it first, probably Greenberg, who always hated Stiles because Stiles used to be a dick so who didn’t hate Stiles, but slowly, like all dreadful things, boo’s started sounding through the room, some of them jeered inside laughter, but some coated so thick in malice and anger that they hurt Derek’s heart. He was half way across the cafeteria when they were in full swing, like knives being thrown at the boy who had been through so much, the boy who obviously wasn’t ready to catch them.  
                Stiles had tears beginning to fall when Derek reached him. “No. Not here, anywhere but here, Stiles.” Derek breathed, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ fragile shell as he tried to herd him from the room.  
-  
                Stiles didn’t want to run until Derek was there, crowding into his space and sapping at his courage, draining it out of him and making him truly scared. He was just coming out of hell, getting back into his life that wasn’t even the same, and he thought he could try to make it be, but when Derek got there he realized those were delusions of grandeur, like how he had thought he had been okay and how he thought he’d be fine and how he’d thought it wouldn’t hurt when he realized his dad loved him and that he was hurting the man who had lost so much already.  
                He made it to the car though, by some miracle he found himself in the fetal position, head between his knees as he was trying to breathe, the gasping breaths sounding like shrieks through his sobs and when he looked over, Derek was there, turning the keys in the ignition and pulling out, dramatically dwarfed by the steering wheel and dashboard. Stiles didn’t know where they were going, but the further they got down the road, the less he felt the crushing weight on his chest. He could still hear them though, the deep rumbling of voices joining together, the sounds of fists banging against table tops, all because he was a fuck up, all because he was useless.  
                “Stop it.” Derek said, glancing over at him briefly. “Trust me I know what you’re doing. It doesn’t help, all it does it help you feel like more and more things are going to hell. Believe it or not I know what feeling like shit is like and how hard you have to work to get people to see you a certain way. I have a 5.0 GPA under my belt and five different Ivy League schools looking at me for next year. I’m sixteen fucking years old.” Saying it all Stiles heard for the first time Derek sound unsure of himself and more than a little tired, but beneath that was bitter humor, he knew about the fucked up things in life and laughed at them at his own expense. “Last year we lost some important people in my family. A mistake was made; I had some not so good friends who weren’t capable of thinking clearly. I wasn’t in a good place in my head and said a few bad things that some bad people took to heart. It cost me everything and no one else knows that I was the cause of my dad and little sister burning to death in a fire. Their ghosts are everywhere, the only place I can escape them is when I’m trying to make up for it. School, studying, working, all of that is so they go away, so they stop blaming me.  
                 “Logically… I know I didn’t… that I had no control over how serious people would take me. But it doesn’t stop the guilt. It doesn’t stop me from pushing myself into books and equations and theories until I’m sick. I’ve tried it all too, at one point. Stronger stuff than even what you did.” He laughed; amused at some thought he didn’t share. “You ever need to laugh, imagine a genius with too much time on his hands on speed. When I slowed down every inch of the walls in my room was covered in nothing but Latin. I’m still translating it, but a lot of it, when translated, just means I’m an idiot.” He grinned over at Stiles who was staring at him with a new sense of understanding.             
                “So that’s why you put up with my bullshit?”  
                “You are an older stupider version of me with less hair.” Derek laughed and leaned his head against the wheel for a moment, shoulders shaking.  
                “We have to go back…” Stiles said minutes later, voice cracking with emotion.  
                Derek gave him a disbelieving look. “Were you at all present when that happened, Stiles? I mean withdrawals are hard but… they jeered you out of the room. I don’t think it’s wise to go back there today.”  
                “I’m on truancy. If I don’t go they call my dad and I get sent back…”  
                “It was bad?” Derek asked, knowing that Stiles would know what he meant.  
                “I had thought I was in hell when I was lost in the haze.” He looked out the window and stared off into the forest on the side of the road, getting lost. “When the medicine and alcohol was cleared out of my system I got punched in the face with memories. The first one was my mom drowning in the car. Her face when she forced me out the half open window. She couldn’t fit, but she broke one of my ribs making sure I got out. She told me not to look but I watched her drown as she clutched the window; her eyes never left mine. She never cried once, Derek. She just stared into my eyes like she was trying to pretend she wasn’t dying. People say when you look into the eyes of someone dying right before you that you get closure.  
                “That’s not true… if anything it haunts you more. All you can see is them dying and how you can’t stop it. How no matter how good you are, how great you are, how much you are loved you don’t have the power to stop what’s happening. It’s like its shit then, but hell later; inevitable and destructive. We watched each other even as she made her way below the surface, I could still feel her eyes on me even if we weren’t seeing each other, and I felt it all. When you drown your body shuts down, it holds off until the last possible moment until you feel like your skull is splitting from lack of oxygen, and then you inhale and it’s over.” He turned his head towards Derek and in that moment the younger man knew that he would never forget this day, or the person he shared it with. “I feel like I died with her.” He admitted.  
                “I tried swimming down, grabbing hold so I could go with her. What fucked up kid thinks of that when they’re eleven? I just didn’t want her to be alone. And then after that that’s all that I was… alone. When I told my dad he put me in the psych ward for a month and that’s when the pills started; after the panic attacks and the depression, the suicidal thoughts and the obsessive compulsive behavior. And then I hit Scott and everyone found out my secret. Stiles Stilinski: Teenage pill junky and chronic alcoholic.”  
                “Derek Hale: Murderer by proxy and ex-crack, speed and meth addict.” Derek offered, extending his hand. “Why don’t we be fucked up together?” He grinned and jumped out of the car. Stiles hadn’t noticed they were back at the School until then.  
  
-  
  
                _Together, Together, Together. Why don’t we be fucked up together? Why don’t we be together? Why don’t you kiss me again? Why don’t you let me show you that I think you’re perfect? Why don’t you let me hold onto you, and give me something that isn’t ruined and haunted?_  
  
                Derek saw Stiles a few more times after that day and gave him his best smiles, buck teeth, dimples and all and Stiles would laugh, even if the sound was kind of brittle and still tinged with sadness, he was smiling again. Not fake smiles to lure in people and make them love him; these were genuine, small, and easy Stiles smiles. There was playfulness behind them, a childishness that screamed of fellow dork-dom. Derek wanted to see more of those, wanted them bigger and brighter and coated with laughter. He realized throughout the rest of the day all he wanted from Stiles, and it scared him. He wanted warm cuddles and safe hugs and hours spent laughing and texting and talking like stupid teenagers in love. He wanted to lay his head on Stiles’ chest and listen to the heart there and how it pounded strong and just for him, and maybe even matched his.  
                He was jogging to give Stiles the key to his jeep, somehow having forgotten to give it back when they were still in it. He was running down the stairs when he realized how bare they were, not littered with lingering students and kids waiting to catch the bus, that’s when the noise hit him, loud and obnoxious and angry. There was a mass of people in the parking lot in the distance, a huge circle formed around something, and Derek’s heart sank because shit like this never happened, and it wasn’t a coincidence that it happened the day Stiles got back. He bypassed the jeep and kept running, and he started making out what they were saying.  
                “McCall! McCall! McCall!” was being chanted over and over, fists pumped into the air, feet stamped onto the asphalt like they do on the bleachers during big games. Danny was running to him from his car, Laura beside him, and he knew they would hold him back; he knew Laura would all but carry him to the Camaro and force him into it. He knew that Danny would help her and try to break up the fight himself, but he was Danny, he was tender and kind and he didn’t fight, which had nothing to do with him being Gay. He had seen Danny in the gym with the punching bag, Danny kicked ass, he just chose not to. Stiles belong to Derek, in some way that didn’t make sense to him yet he knew he had to take care of the fragile older boy.  
                That’s how he found himself running, running as fast as he could and throwing himself over their heads and thanking his mother for forced years of gymnastics with itchy tights and a touchy feely female coach. They all stopped when they saw him but he barely noticed. He was too shocked at the image before him, too shocked to hear Laura tearing through the pack behind him, ripping kids out of the way, shoving them down and throwing a few punches. Even too shocked to hear the Camaro veer around the meridian and growl as it charged towards the group, but only to frighten them out of the way; stopping short of hitting anyone.  
                Scott and Jackson were in the middle, Stiles curled in on himself on the ground, bits of road that were loose, the size of pebbles dug into his skin. His lip was busted again, in the same place that Derek had busted it the week before and his forehead was bleeding. That made him angry, that lit a fire inside of him he didn’t know how to cool, even as he breathed deep and clutched his fists tight, because none of it mattered. Scott was still standing over him, kicking into his side repeatedly, relentless. Derek’s fist pulled back and snapped forward, catching the stupid fuck right in the jaw. The satisfying crack kept him from throwing another sucker punch.  
                “Don’t be such a little bitch, McCall, c’mon. You kicked Stilinski’s ass, you can take Hale.” Jackson instigated, but Laura was already striding in before he could finish. She jumped and slammed him down in a full body tackle, one hand on the throat, the other slapping, clawing and punching over and over in that order. His face was already bleeding.                 
                “I’ve.” Bitch slap. “Had.” Claws down the face. “Just.” Punch to the nose. “About.” Another bitch slap. “Enough.” A chunk of hair ripped out. “Of.” Fat lip. “You!” She boxed his ears and screamed, one of those rare Laura screams that rips through too many octaves to be possible. He knew by the way Jackson’s eyes crossed up in his head he was in cognitive hell.  
                Derek walked over to where Scott was hunkered down on the ground, ignoring the stares he and his sister were getting. He didn’t care what this did to his permanent record or his chance at Stanford or Harvard or Berkley. What these two sick bastards had done to Stiles mattered more than anything.  
                He leaned over Scott slowly and took his face gently, forcing him to meet his eyes.  
                “I thought you were different. You’re just another bitch.” He sneered, lips pulling back over his teeth. His eyes were that scary bright mint green that looked silver that only happened when he was truly pissed. He could tell by the way Scott pissed himself. “Don’t come near him again.” He leaned in close so only the other boy could hear. “Or I’ll kill you.” He cocked his head, eyebrows arched in question before nodding. Danny was already loading Stiles into the back of the Camaro and Laura was steering Derek to the car.  
                “Jackson copped a feel, got frisky. Self-defense.” She explained all this with cool detachment. Derek loved his sister. He kissed her on the cheek and climbed into the back with Stiles, gently putting the blood boys head on his lap, stroking the parts that weren’t bruised and broken. Danny peeled out just as they heard the megaphone boom and the principles voice fill the air.  
                “It’s pretty much obvious now, right?” Derek asked, crying onto Stiles face as one eye peered open to stare at him, shimmering with unshed tears.  
                “Wha’?” he tried.  
                “I love you, Stupid.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just got a case of writers block, it's annoying. I don't know if its from anxiety about moving or the fact that I don't have my ipod to write with anymore but it's really bothering me. I'll try to get over it. Sorry.3

ASDFGHJKL;


	5. GUESS WHAT YOU GUYS!!!!!

I know it's been forever. I'm sorry. I know I've kept you guys waiting for almost two years but please understand personal life things have really fucked up my plans for things like this. I lost my parents became homeless brother almost died, yeah, it's been a year. But I'm stable and getting back on my feet and I have time to write now so I'm posting again. For this story only because I have plot for this story. I'm making this into a series and starting the second part of the series for Derek and Stiles setting it a little bit in the future :3 Don't worry though, I'm not leaving gaps and filling in the backstory. We'll also see more of Scott and Jackson and the ever lovely, Danny baby ;3. Also some newer faces like maybe some Isaac action and I think Erica could be Derek's version of Stiles' Lydia. What do you think? Yes? Yes. Of COURSE YES. I'm writing the first chapter now and probably the chapter after that. I know I must have lost a lot of fan base but I'll be writing each of you in the comments who responded to let you know the story is coming back up.   
Much love, Dannison ^^


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